Penny's Tales

Tag: short stories

• [Short Horror Story] My Perfect Mattress Came with Rules

  Posted at 2:58 am by Penny Tailsup, on October 10, 2019

  

  Spooktober Prompt # 10 – Nighttime Nopes

  “My Perfect Mattress Came with Rules”

  by Penny Tailsup

  –

   

  Buying a mattress for the first time is a milestone. It’s a marker of adulthood; an expensive, essential, but unexciting purchase. I’d never bought one before, but I needed to. The mattress I’d dragged from my childhood home had shrieking springs and smelled like wet dog.

  I considered buying a used one off craigslist, but talks of soiled mattresses, bed bugs and possible serial killers was enough to change my mind.

  Well… You know how Facebook magically starts showing relevant ads after you talk about something? That. That’s how I found an ad for an online mattress store I’d never heard of:

  RIGHTSIDEOFTHEBED.COM

  Yes, it was in all caps. I normally ignored ads, but I was shopping for a mattress. I clicked. A pop up jumped out, with more all-caps text in bold red font:

  WE’LL FIND YOUR PERFECT MATTRESS. TAKE OUR QUIZ!

  Uhm… okay. Intrigued and slightly put off, I decided to take the quiz. It seemed pretty standard. What do you look for in a mattress? What brands do you like? Do you prefer firm or soft? Gel or foam? Do you sleep alone? After awhile, text windows appeared with the questions so I could type custom answers. Getting impatient, I kept it short and sweet:

  What hurts in the morning, if anything?

  Headache

  How do you usually feel when you wake up?

  Angry about waking up

  How do you want to feel when you wake up?

  Happy and refreshed I guess

  Anything else you think is important?

  I’m broke

  When I was done, I clicked submit. A message popped up: THANK YOU, ENJOY YOUR NEW MATTRESS. WAKE UP ON THE RIGHT SIDE OF THE BED! Uhm… what? I poked around the site, but didn’t find product listings. I gave up and forgot it… until two days later, when a mattress was delivered to my door.

  The sender was RIGHTSIDEOFTHEBED.COM, with no return address. This had to be some mistake, because I hadn’t bought anything from that website. I didn’t remember giving my name or address, but I must have. How else would they have sent a package to me?

  There was an envelope stapled to the plastic wrapped tube, MATTRESS RULES stamped across the front. Rules? For a mattress? I opened it, half expecting to find a bill or an enrollment form for some high-interest payment plan. Instead, I found a single piece of paper:

  MATTRESS RULES

  To wake up happy and refreshed every morning, you must:

  1. Pick a side and stick to it. That is your side. Sleep alone.
  2. Keep two fresh glasses of water by the bed.
  3. If you wake up in the middle of the night, don’t leave the bed.
  4. If you’re not alone when you wake up, don’t engage.

  If you don’t follow these rules, you may not be happy and refreshed.

  THANK YOU. WAKE UP ON THE RIGHT SIDE OF THE BED! PLEASE REVIEW OUR PRODUCT IN 30 DAYS AND TELL US HOW SATISFIED YOU ARE.

  I’d heard of companies sending free products in exchange for reviews… but a mattress? I was so confused. The weird rules made it seem creepy, but also made me really curious about the mattress. Was this a marketing gimmick?

  Eager to find out, I peeled off the plastic and pulled my new mattress out of the tube. The first thing I noticed was the chemical smell– reminiscent of a hospital, like antiseptic and latex. I covered my mouth and nose, coughing. Not a good sign.

  It was heavy, too. I dragged it into my bedroom and swapped it with my old mattress, flattening it out on the box spring and opening the window to air. I noticed a tag on the bottom of my new mattress that said Temper-Peutic, Not Tempur-Pedic. It was made of a grayish pink memory foam, soft to the touch. The top was covered in little foam nubs, like upholstered bubble wrap.

  I dragged my old mattress to the living room, stripping off the bedding and leaning it against the wall. My new mattress was weird, but undeniably nicer than my old one. I washed my blankets and sheets, but my mind kept going back to those weird rules. Apparently the only thing that would happen if I didn’t follow them was that I “may not wake up happy and refreshed”.

  The outcome didn’t seem nearly as ominous as a couple of the rules did! I wondered if this was a bad translation. Maybe the company was based out of the country. That had to be it!

  I puttered around the house for awhile, getting things done. Later, I went back into my bedroom to put the bedding on my new mattress. The smell was gone, and it had plumped up considerably. In fact, it looked invitingly comfortable! Excellent.

  As usual, getting the fitted sheet on was an exercise in patience, but it didn’t take me too long to get everything set up. Naturally, the first thing I did was flop into bed. The mattress was so warm! Not just sheets-fresh-from-the-dryer warm, but warm like a hug and an electric blanket. I slid under the covers. Toasty. My back popped a bit and I let out a groan of relief.

  It felt amazing! The perfect amount of support. I had my doubts, but the mattress was ridiculously comfortable. Those little nubs on top felt like a gentle, full-body massage. Or was it more accurate to describe it like acupressure? Either way, I was sold!

  “Wow…” I said to no one. I still had things to do, but I didn’t want to get up. I had to talk myself into it. Once I got up, all I wanted to do was crawl back into bed, but I had the willpower to walk away.

  I finished my housework, made dinner, and watched TV for a bit. Once it was late enough that going to bed was actually an option, I picked up the rules again. I reviewed them, still perplexed. Well, what harm could following the rules do? At this point, I was convinced it was a bad translation and this was supposed to be one of those sleep hygiene guides to promote better sleeping habits.

  “Pick a side and stick to it. That is your side.”

  Okay, I picked the left side since it was closest to the door.

  “Sleep alone.”

  Not a problem, I’m single as fuck.

  “Keep two fresh glasses of water by the bed.”

  I went into the kitchen, grabbing two glasses and filling them up with water. I set them both on my bedside table. I guess this was in case I got thirsty in the middle of the night?

  “If you wake up in the middle of the night, don’t leave the bed.”

  Not a problem, I didn’t want to. Unless I had to pee? Well, in that case I guess I could use one of the cups? Just kidding! Gross.

  “If you’re not alone when you wake up, do not engage.”

  If I go to bed alone, why would there be anyone there when I wake up?

  I put the rules away in a drawer, still amused with the weird circumstances. I showered and got ready for bed, eager for my first night on my brand new mattress. Getting into bed was an amazing feeling, so warm and good.

  “Aaaah…” I sighed contentedly, settling in. I fell asleep almost instantly… but I didn’t stay asleep.

  According to the blurry red outline on my alarm clock, it was 3:00 AM. I wasn’t sure what woke me, but I was too comfortable to move. The mattress creaked beside me. I turned to see, blinking blearily. I couldn’t help but notice an indentation beside me. How odd. Had I rolled over?

  I closed my eyes and tried to settle in again. I managed to fall asleep, but woke up not ten minutes later. Cold feet pressed against my calves. I jumped, looking under the covers in confusion! There was nothing there. I must have been having one of those sleep-paralysis nightmare things. Except I could move?

  Trying to calm my nerves, I reached for one of the glasses on the nightstand. I tried to take a drink, but it was empty. Okay, I must have drank it and forgot. I was too tired to freak out, too comfortable to move. I curled back up with the covers, and didn’t wake up again until morning.

  When my alarm went off, my eyes popped open and I smiled. A brand new day, and I was perfectly rested and relaxed to face it. I jumped out of bed, going about my morning routine with a pep in my step.

  Those rules were weird, but maybe the placebo effect of them actually worked? I wasn’t complaining! Sure, I’d had that weird waking nightmare with the cold feet… but I couldn’t blame a mattress for that. That would be ridiculous.

  My new mattress was perfect. I’d been skeptical of the whole quiz and unexpected delivery, but I was happy. When it was time for bed again, I grabbed the two empty glasses. I washed and refilled them, setting them neatly by the clock. Smiling, I slipped under the covers… and slept like a baby.

  Every day for the rest of that week, I woke up happy and refreshed. I kept following the rules, because they honestly seemed to work. It wasn’t like they were that hard. Maybe part of it was having a routine? Having boundaries for yourself? I’m not sure why, but I’d never felt better.

  The only weird thing was that the water glasses would always be empty in the morning, even though I never remembered drinking them. As far as I knew, I’d been sleeping through the night… the empty glasses told me otherwise. I threw out of my old mattress, positive I wouldn’t need it.

  One night, I forgot to fill the cups though. I remembered once I got in bed, but I was too comfortable to get up. I let it be. I didn’t even remember drinking the water at night, so I probably wouldn’t remember missing it either. As usual, I settled in and fell right asleep.

  “Where’s my water?”

  An angry voice startled me awake.

  “I’m thirsty!”

  My heart was racing with confusion and fear. The voice was coming from directly beside me. I turned slowly, peering over my shoulder to see what could only be described as a pile of goo in the approximate shape of a man.

  The goo-man didn’t have a face, but cocked it’s glistening head as if it were looking at me. I shuddered and looked away.

  “Where’s … my… water? Go get it! I’m thirsty!”

  I was shaking. The shout of the thing made me want to leap out of bed and do as it demanded, but… I remembered the rules. I wasn’t supposed to get out of bed if I woke up in the middle of the night. Not for any reason. But I also wasn’t supposed to forget to fill the water glasses.

  Don’t engage.

  I tore my eyes away; terror and indecision froze me. I kept my back to the thing, squeezing my eyes shut. It was probably better to break one rule than break two or three.

  “Don’t ignore me! I know you heard me. Where’s my water?”

  Trembling, I kept my eyes closed. I pulled the pillow over my ears. I didn’t fall asleep, but eventually the demands stopped. I didn’t dare look at it. Only when my alarm clock went off did I finally check– there was nothing there.

  I did not feel happy or refreshed.

  Trudging through my morning, exhausted and panicked, I tried to convince myself I’d just had some weird nightmare. There was no evidence of any sort of slime. There’d be some sort of residue if there had been, right?

  But if I’d been having a nightmare, wouldn’t I feel rested? At least a little? Instead, I felt like a zombie; swallowing toxic levels of caffeine to make it through the day. When it was time for bed, I hesitated in my doorway. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to sleep on my bed, I was so traumatized from the night before!

  So I slept on my couch. Nothing weird happened, but I woke up in horrible pain. My head, my neck, my back… my whole body hurt. Oh my god, it had been the worst night’s sleep in my entire life! I was angry all day, snapping at coworkers and friends alike. My boss sent me home, concerned that I was sick. I wasn’t myself.

  At that point, I was so exhausted and felt so terrible that I knew I had to sleep on my bed again. That weird nightmare with the goo-man shouldn’t stop me. It had to have been a nightmare. I was so tired and I felt so bad. I wanted to feel happy and refreshed again.

  I took extra care to clean and fill the water glasses. The bed felt amazing, but I felt sick. I had a hard time relaxing enough to fall asleep, but eventually I did.

  “Fucking finally.” said the goo-man. It was 3:03 AM. “Hand me my water, will you?” my eyes snapped open. I stared up at the ceiling, not daring to look at the figure beside me. “I didn’t get any water last night, how inconsiderate of you.” the thing was irritated, and kept talking. I closed my eyes again.. No. This was a nightmare.

  “I know you hear me. You’re so fucking rude.”

  Don’t engage.

  I kept my eyes closed. It kept trying to talk to me, but eventually gave up. The whole mattress creaked as it reached over me, grabbing one of the cups. Cold water dripped on my back, making my muscles jump. I suppressed the urge to look.

  Gulp gulp gulp. Aaaaaaaahhh…

  “That’s better.”

  The creature left me alone after that. I fell asleep, and come morning… I did feel better. Happy and refreshed, but… also confused. Conflicted. The happiness and relaxation seemed so unnatural with the undercurrent of wrongness and fear.

  The glasses on the bedside table were empty, but what did that prove? I could have drank them. I could have been having weird nightmares inspired by the bizarre rules. That was still the most rational option!

  I tried to forget about the nightmares and went about my day. I still felt amazing, but it was tempered by anxiety in such a way that I felt I was on drugs or something. I had feelings that had no business being mixed together and yet they were.

  At bedtime, I hovered in the door again. I stared reluctantly at my mattress, deciding if I was going to spend another night on the couch. Why, though? Because of nightmares? I shook my head at myself, and forced myself through the routine. I cleaned and refilled the water glasses, showered and changed, and went to bed. Sleep hit me like a rock upside the head, but I couldn’t stay asleep.

  When I woke up, I kept my eyes closed. There was a drop of something on my forehead. Sweat? Water? I don’t know, but it felt cold. I was painfully aware of the drop slowly sliding down the bridge of my nose, then down the side and catching on the corner of my mouth.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to splash you.” a voice said, but it didn’t sound sincere. “Are you awake?”

  Nope. Not awake. I kept my eyes closed; my palms began to sweat. Cold feet nudged my knees. Wet feet. I shuddered, a bubble of panic rising in my throat. I felt a weight on my hips, pressing down, like I was being straddled.

  My eyes snapped open before I could stop them. On top of me, inches away from my face… I saw the goo-man. It wrapped its fingers around my neck. It looked different than the first time I saw it; no face, but it has black spots where it’s eyes should be.

  Somehow, it seemed more solid, with dark spidery lines suspended in it’s gelatinous casing. Veins, maybe? That didn’t seem right. I closed my eyes again. Nope. Not looking. I willed my nightmare to change into something pleasant, like an endless buffet of dessert.

  “Sorry, did I wake you?” it mocked. I almost replied, but the pressure it’s fingers placed on my throat reminded me to stay quiet. It let go, as if realizing this.

  “You already broke one rule. You might as well break one more. I’m never going to leave you alone now.”

  Don’t engage.

  “Come on, asshole! ! I’m bored! I don’t sleep like you do.”

  It leaned in. I could feel it, the mattress moaning with the shifting weight. It blew cold air against my ear. I shivered; it’s whole body felt cold, an uncomfortable contrast to the unnatural warmth of the mattress.

  After awhile, the goo-man gave up. It flipped off of me, falling back onto its side of the bed and grumbling. I didn’t dare move; hell, I almost forgot to breathe! After a while, somehow, the comfort of the mattress sucked me back into the warm void of sleep.

  In the morning, I woke up happy and refreshed. Terrified, but happy and refreshed. I leapt out of bed, unsure if I wanted to cry or laugh. I opted for both, tears streaming down my laughing cheeks as I opened the drawer and pulled out the slip of rules.

  I turned the paper over, looking for a customer service number or email. Anything! But there was nothing. I’d already thrown away the packaging it came in, but I remembered very clearly that there’d been no return address.

  Desperate, I yanked out my laptop and typed in the web address: RIGHTSIDEOFTHEBED.COM. A page popped up asking if it was my web domain, or if I’d like to buy it. I tried again, making sure I hadn’t typed it in wrong. Same thing happened a few times before I gave up, throwing my hands up in frustration.

  The page with the rules asked me to review the product in 30 days, but it hadn’t told me how. It hadn’t been 30 days yet, but it wasn’t like the web page was going to magically start working by then… right?

  At this point, I was too afraid to sleep. As much as I wanted to believe I was having “nightmares”, I couldn’t convince myself it was true. That night, I booked a room in a hotel. It was a waste of money.

  The mattress in the room was irredeemably uncomfortable. It had a pillow top but felt like a bed of nails. The sheets seemed so cold. I spent the night crying in pain and frustration, realizing the horrible truth:

  I had to sleep on my rule-ridden demon mattress. Nothing else would let me wake up happy and refreshed. I was ruined. Going without left me a haunted, aching shell of a person. I couldn’t live like that for long, if that was living at all. The only cure was a night at home in bed. That bed.

  I didn’t go to work. I went home, crawling between my sheets and screaming into my pillow. I instantly felt better, but the fear didn’t go away. I couldn’t move. I didn’t have the strength or the will. I slept through the day, and through the night.

  “You forgot my water again.”

  I sat bolt upright. It was 3:00 AM.

  “No… no… no…” I covered my mouth, sobbing. I slept a lot longer than I thought I would. I thought a morning nap would be safe. I’d been asleep for 13 hours. While my body felt warm and at rest, my blood ran cold.

  “You can fix it. Just walk into the kitchen. Go on.”

  I broke the water rule before, if I could just stay calm and stay strong I’d be ok. This thing, though angry and demanding, had never actually hurt me.

  Don’t engage.

  “You’re so warm.” it wrapped its arms around me. Cold, but… more solid than I expected. Less wet than before. A firm grip. Bile bubbled up my throat, I wanted to throw up. Against my better judgement, I looked down. The thing had grown bones and transparent skin.

  What the fuck. This thing is… evolving? I bit my palm to stop myself from screaming. What was going to happen when this thing stopped growing?

  “Fiiiine. Don’t get my water. I’ll just hold you all night long.” it crooned. “This is nice, isn’t it?” No. No it was not nice. I threw up, the acid in my mouth burning and unpleasant. Vomit dribbled out of the corners of my mouth, dripping onto the blankets.

  The monster didn’t say anything, but it was vibrating against me. Laughing, maybe. I dropped my hands, emptying the contents of my stomach on the blanket. I stripped it off and threw the balled up comforter across the room.

  “You’re not going to put that in the wash?”

  “In the morning.” I muttered.

  Wait. No! I didn’t answer that thing! I wasn’t engaging. I didn’t!

  But I had. It was too late. The thing vibrated more, this time I was sure it was laughing. I expected some smug gotcha, but it didn’t say a word. A sharp pain lanced my shoulder, but I closed my eyes, resisting the urge to look. I didn’t know what I was feeling, but it was better not to know.

  I woke up in the morning, surprised to be alive. I must have passed out. I was not “happy and refreshed”… but scared and weak. I stared at my alarm clock, struggling to comprehend the numbers and the sound of the alarm. My ears were ringing even after I hit the snooze button. My body felt cold, even with the feverish warmth of my sweat-soaked sheets.

  The bedroom smelled of vomit, my balled up blanket still in the corner. Evidence of the night. I wasn’t crazy after all, but that didn’t make me feel better. I cried, curled up and trying to find the strength to move.

  Eventually, I managed to drag myself into the bathroom. I stood under a scalding shower, trying to feel warm again. As I scrubbed myself raw, I found a bruise on my left shoulder; a perfect circle with a dark red center. I didn’t want to look at it. I didn’t want to wonder what it was, or what it meant.

  It’s only been two weeks. I’ve already broken two rules! I don’t know what will happen if, or when, I break more… but I already know I can’t sleep anywhere else. I don’t have a choice… it’s either sleep in that bed, or don’t sleep at all.

  As of today, I haven’t slept in three days. I feel awful. I know I’m going to give in soon. Even now, I’m resisting the urge to crawl into bed and sleep. Even though I’m scared, even though I know something bad is going to happen if I do… I crave the feeling of a good night’s rest. I want to feel happy and refreshed again.

  The list of rules asked me to review the product in 30 days. That’s two weeks from now. I’m not sure what kind of “review” they’re expecting, or if I’ll even be around to write it.

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  Posted in Short Stories [Horror] | 0 Comments | Tagged breaking rules, fiction, horror, horror story, mattress, nightmare, nosleep, rules, short stories, short story, sleep, sleep paralysis, spooktober

• [Short Horror Story] My girlfriend’s hair gets everywhere

  Posted at 7:01 pm by Penny Tailsup, on October 7, 2019

  

  Spooktober Prompt # 7 – Killer Creatures

  “My girlfriend’s hair gets everywhere.”

  by Penny Tailsup

  –

  There is no worse feeling than unexpectedly stepping into two inches of cold, dirty bathwater.

  That’s how the morning started. I was expecting to take a hot shower, but instead found myself standing in a puddle of standing water.

  “Cassidy! You clogged the drain again!”

  I jumped out of the tub and wiped my feet on the bathmat with disgust. I reached for the plumber’s snake, which was always on hand for exactly this reason. This happened a lot. More than usual, lately.

  Muttering under my breath, I eased the snake into the drain. I knew exactly what I’d find: a big, slimy ball of hair.

  Cassidy in the doorway behind me. She shuffled in that cute, apologetic way she always did when I had to unclog the drain. I wasn’t mad at her, of course. Not really. I just really, really hated having to unclog the drain.

  “Sooooorry, Dolan! I pulled some gunk out last night, I guess there was more there than I thought…”

  “If you’re not pulling out a wet cat, it’s not enough.” I was joking, kind of. Not really. I glanced at her over my shoulder, and from her apologetic smile, I knew she could tell. It wasn’t her fault, but it was hard not to feel frustrated.

  “I’ll make breakfast this morning.” she volunteered, trying to make it up to me. She didn’t have to, but I still appreciated the gesture. I was a grumpy bastard, but I loved her!

  “Bacon?” I smiled at her, and she smiled back.

  When I asked my friends what it was like to live with their girlfriends, they all had one grievance in common: hair. Hair everywhere! I thought they were exaggerating, but they really weren’t. Of course, I love Cassidy enough to overlook something so petty. Usually. Not at 6 a.m. though.

  At first, as the truth ran through more lintrollers than I could count, I thought it was funny and perplexing. How? How did she shed so much? Why wasn’t she bald?

  Cassidy’s long, curly black hair was one of the many things that attracted me to her in the first place. Living with her, I had a new appreciation for all the work that went into her looks. What I couldn’t understand was how her hair ended up where it did. It wrapped around my toes! Hell, I’ve pulled a strand out of my buttcrack. Apparently I’m not the only guy either! What the heck!

  It’s part of the beautiful girlfriend package, right? A seemingly universal grievance. I could tolerate most of it: pulling her hair out of the lint trap, cutting her hair out of the vacuum brushroll… Hell, even I could even tolerate replacing said vacuum every 6 months like clockwork! What I couldn’t stand was the hair clogs in the bathtub.

  Intellectually, I know that hair isn’t disgusting the second is leaves your head… but it is disgusting after it sits in a drain, collecting whatever nasty slime that washes away in the shower. No matter how many times I’ve done it, which is a lot, unclogging the drain is the most revolting chore in the world. I’d rather do anything else!

  Once I felt resistance, I began to rotate the snake slowly. My stomach roiled with anticipation of what I was going to fish out– apparently this one was a monster of a clog because I didn’t feel the auger head break through that mess.

  When I tried to pull the clog out, the snake didn’t budge. In fact, the clog seemed to retreat deeper into the pipe! Before I even realized what was happening, I found myself yanked forward. My head smashed against the shower tile and I let out an angry yell of pain.

  Cassidy heard the commotion. She came running in, wide-eyed. She found me holding my head in my hands, still needing a moment to recover.

  “Dolan! Are you okay? Did you slip?”

  A little dazed, I nodded. I guess I had slipped? Or something. I wasn’t entirely sure, but I didn’t want her to worry about it.

  “It’s really lodged in there. I think I accidentally pushed it in deeper, though.” I already had a headache.

  “… Well,” she looked pale but smiled through her worry for me. “You should probably get dressed and go to the doctor, just in case.”

  I looked down at myself, remembering I was naked. Oh yeah. It looked like I wasn’t getting my morning shower after all.

  “Nah, I don’t need to go to the doctor for a bump. It’s not that bad. It’s not like I was knocked unconscious.”

  “You can’t really be too careful with head injuries…” Cassidy persisted.

  “If I get symptoms besides a headache and a bruise, I’ll go in.” I brushed her off. “Don’t worry.” I added, swooping in to give her a quick kiss. “I’m not an idiot.”

  “You kind of are.” she laughed, but I could tell she was still tense. She was a worrier.

  “You’re not burning breakfast, are you? That would be a real emergency.”

  “Oh! Uhm… I’ll go check that.” I watched her dash back out of the bathroom, heading back to the kitchen. Hopefully the bacon would be spared! Maybe my morning could still be salvaged.

  Chuckling to myself, I reached down into the tub to retrieve the snake… only to find that it wasn’t there. Ok… that had never happened before. Now I had to figure out how to get a snake out of the pipe too? I tried sticking my finger in so I could feel around for it, but my fingers were too thick. I felt a slimy film, but nothing else.

  “Alrighty then..” I straightened up, standing there for a moment. I shook my head in disbelief, about to give up on my morning when I heard a strange metallic banging sound. It moved along the floor with the hissing sound of water. At least, I thought it was water? If I had to call a plumber I was going to be pissed! I wasn’t the most handy, but I’d try to fix it myself first.

  I washed my hands, got dressed and headed into the kitchen. The eggs were ruined, but the bacon wasn’t. The hash browns looked extra crispy, but I actually liked them that way. Cassidy’s cheeks were a little pink from embarrassment. Cute.

  “Breakfast looks great!” I beamed, hoping she knew I wasn’t mad. At least, not at her. I was trying not to show my frustration, because I knew it stressed her out even if it wasn’t directed at her.

  “Are you going to stay home today?” she asked with concern.

  “… Yeah. I can’t go in if I haven’t showered anyway.” I didn’t really want to miss work, but taking care of the plumbing was pretty important. Plus, I had a headache and wanted to monitor my head injury just in case.

  She made me a plate, then joined me at the table. Normally, I did the cooking because I enjoyed it, but it was really nice to have her cook for me now and then. Breakfast always tastes better when you’re not the one who made it.

  “Sorry about the drain. I really did try and fix it last night.” she explained.

  “It happens. This one’s extra bad, apparently. If I couldn’t get it out with the snake, you definitely couldn’t.” I assured her. “We might even need a plumber.” I added, “But that’s a last resort, if I have anything to say about it.”

  “You still love me, right?” she batted her eyelashes at me. I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “It’ll take more than a hairball to tear us apart.”

  After breakfast, I went to the store to pick up some baking soda, vinegar and another plumber’s snake. I grabbed a drano, too, just in case– though I tried to avoid using chemicals in our old pipes as much as I could.

  I mixed together ¼ a cup each of baking soda and vinegar, dumping the concoction directly into the drain. The standing water was grey and foul-smelling, but most of it had drained away slowly. I noticed an odd gurgling sound coming from the pipes, which I hoped was a good sign.

  I left the tub, giving the baking soda and vinegar an hour to cut through the gunk. I went to lie down, waiting for my headache to go away. Cassidy had the day off, so I listened to her putter around the house. She poked her head in the room to check on me after awhile.

  “Can I shower?” she asked.

  “Yeah, it’s time to flush everything down with hot water anyway. I’m sure it’s fine.” I closed my eyes, “Come get me when you’re done, I need to try and get the other snake out.”

  “It fell in?”

  “I guess.” It seemed more like it got pulled in, but that didn’t really make sense. Some weird accident of physics, like an air bubble or water pressure probably made it seem that way. “I’ll take care of it, come get me when you’re done.”

  She nodded, though came in to give me a quick kiss. “Ok. Love you.”

  “Love you more.” I winked, “Maybe I’ll join you in a minute, actually. I still need a shower too.”

  “Ha! Well, you know where I’ll be.” I watched her go, enjoying the view and seriously considering going after her.

  After a moment, I heard the soft sssshhh of the shower going. Cassidy hummed cheerful tune I didn’t recognize. I closed my eyes, smiling. I was about to drift off to sleep, but I was jolted awake by a sudden, sharp scream and a loud bang. “Cassidy!” at record speed, I threw off the covers and flew down the hall. I burst into the bathroom, finding Cassidy holding the back of her head. Her face was the color of sour milk and she was visibly shaking.

  The tub she was standing in was filled with filthy grey water. It smelled so bad I gagged. Hell, vomit smelled better than the putrid slop! Cassidy was sobbing in horror and disgust, but I couldn’t tell if she was seriously hurt.

  “You ok?” I managed to keep myself from puking long enough to ask.

  “N-no. All this water just… exploded out! It knocked me into the wall!” I could see a film of slime and debris drifting sluggishly across the surface of the water. I shuddered, but pushed back my revulsion so I could help her.

  “It’s ok… you’re ok.” I said in as soothing a voice I could manage. I reached out, guiding her out of the tub carefully. Her legs were coated with the contents of the tub, and I felt her almost slip. I steadied her carefully in my arms, only letting go when she had solid footing.

  I handed her a towel, pinching my nose. Something moved in the corner of my eye; something dark and writhing. It looked like something black and oily was oozing out of the drain and into the filthy water, but I couldn’t see what it was through the cloudy liquid. Had the clog come bursting out of the drain somehow?

  “I’m… going to call a plumber. One sec. And a doctor…?” I trailed off, looking at her for verification. She shook her head.

  “No, I’m fine. I’m just startled, and… grossed out.”

  “You and me both.” I agreed, still pinching my nose. Whatever this problem was, it was way out of my depth. I left Cassidy to make the call while leaned over the tub, looking at the water with repulsed fascination.

  I found my phone by the bedside table, still holding back bile. Before I could even make the call, she screamed again. This time her cry was abruptly cut off, sounding… muffled? That wasn’t right.

  I hurried back, finding Cassidy on the bathroom floor. Her mouth was open wide, but something black and slimy was jammed between her lips. Her fingers kept trying to catch hold of whatever it was, but it wouldn’t budge.

  It was hair.

  Without hesitation, I grabbed onto the slimy tangle and tried to pull it out of her mouth. She was trying to scream, she just couldn’t! The whole hairy mass was wriggling and pulsing, like it was a living thing. For some reason, it was trying to jam itself deeper down her throat.

  I couldn’t get a solid grip. It felt wiry and slippery, scraping my hands that couldn’t get a firm hold. Cassidy’s eyes were wide with terror and tears, her face going red as she struggled to breathe.

  Despite my best efforts, the hairball jammed itself completely down her throat– taking my fingernails with it. My bloody fingertips followed the thing into her mouth, but I couldn’t get ahold of it. My girlfriend was still choking, her dark eyes losing focus.

  I didn’t know what to do. I called for an ambulance, frantically trying to explain what had happened. They didn’t understand a word I said, but help was on the way. Cassidy was blue. I spotted the unopened drain snake I’d bought, and had a horrible idea.

  I tore it open quickly, and after a moment of hesitation– I pushed it down her throat. Whatever it was, I could see the lump it created in her throat. I yanked, trying to pull it back out. I only managed to pull out a few black strands. Whatever this thing was, it was impenetrable!

  “Please, please, please…” I begged, though I don’t know who I was begging. Cassidy? God? The hairball in her throat?

  I tried again, using a little more force. Again, I only succeeded in pulling out a few clumps of hair… I couldn’t unclog her throat. Black curls covered in slime stuck to her trembling chin, protruding from her mouth like tentacles.

  “No, no, no… this isn’t happening!”

  The paramedics broke down the door some time later. I hadn’t heard them arrive. I hadn’t heard anything but the roaring panic in my ears and the gurgles coming from Cassidy’s throat. I could hear the thing hissing in her throat, like a feral rat.

  The paramedics found me with a plumber’s snake in hand, I was still bent over Cassidy’s prone form– trying to stab the auger into the heart of the hairball so I could pull it out of her. I must have looked deranged. One of them forcibly pulled me away from her. I cried, trying to get back to her–still screaming her name.

  I watched in horror as they stabbed a hole for her to breathe through… I tried to explain that I’d only used the snake as a last-ditch effort to save her, but I don’t think they believed me. The rest of that time is a blur. Police were called, and Cassidy was taken away on a stretcher.

  Fortunately, the doctors were able to surgically remove the massive knot of hair… but they saw nothing unusual about it– aside from the size, and the fact that they’d found it split between my girlfriend’s throat and stomach.

  Cassidy is in a coma. She’s in bad shape, but she’s breathing. I’m grateful for that. There’s still hope.

  I haven’t been charged with a crime… yet. It’s coming. The investigators are putting a case against me together, trying to figure out what happened. I know how it looks, though. They think I’m an abuser. Looking back, I can see why they’d think that.

  The police asked if I was mad at my girlfriend for clogging the drain. They think I did this to her, jamming the hair down her throat in a fit of rage. That’s ridiculous! I love her, I’d never hurt her over anything so stupid! Maybe it was annoying sometimes, but I’d never truly blamed her.

  Unfortunately, Cassidy can’t tell them they’re wrong. The hospital won’t let me see her, either! Her family thinks I’m responsible too. We’re not married, so I can’t force my way in. I’m sure a restraining order will be issued with the warrant.

  I don’t know how to convince a jury that my insane story about a killer hairball is true. The only person who can prove it might never wake up.

  Cassidy, please wake up.

  X

  Posted in Short Stories [Horror] | 0 Comments | Tagged art, creepy, dark, drain, fiction, girlfriend, hair, horror, original, short stories, short story, spooktober, writing

• [Short Horror Story] I don’t have a cat. A cat has me.

  Posted at 2:52 pm by Penny Tailsup, on October 5, 2019

  

  Spooktober Prompt # 5 – Putrid Pets

  “I don’t have a cat. A cat has me.”

  by Penny Tailsup

  –

  No time? Listen to the narration instead!

   

  When I found Jack, I didn’t plan on keeping him. In fact, I thought he was dead.

   

  On my way home from work, I saw a black furry body lying on the sidewalk. I parked my car and walked over to check, finding a cat with a tire impression stamped on its side. Though I didn’t know this cat, I cried. 

   

  It’s always sad when an animal dies. Sadder still, to think about the owner who had to be looking for them. Kitty wasn’t coming back. 

   

  I could’ve left him there, but it didn’t feel right. After wrapping him in my sweater, I drove to the local shelter with a heavy heart. I figured they’d know what to do. When I went to grab the body from the backseat, I was surprised to see a pair of orange eyes blinking up at me. 

   

  The cat had shaken off my sweater and was lounging comfortably. The tire impression was still there, but it looked less serious than I remembered. Instead of questioning it, I was relieved. A lost kitty was worlds better than a dead one. 

   

  After a quick internal debate, I decided to take him home. I figured if no one claimed him, I’d keep him! I didn’t really trust the shelter to re-home him. Not because they wouldn’t try, but because I’d always heard that black cats are less likely to be adopted.

   

  The tread on his fur was apparently superficial; if it hurt, he gave no indication. I brought him to a vet to be sure, blowing a bit of my rent money on this purrfect stranger. Jack, as I came to call him, was a medical marvel. He’d been run over but walked away without a scratch. Apparently he’d just been in shock when I found him, scared stiff.

   

  I put up ‘Found’ posters in the neighborhood and circulated his photos on social media. No one claimed him. All I got was a troll message that said ‘that cat needs to be shot’. I blocked them immediately. 

   

  Jack was unusual. He didn’t really meow much, or play, or cuddle. He didn’t act scared or aggressive either. In fact, he was the picture of serenity. His presence was a calming one. Wherever I was, he tended to be– just out of reach, purring as he watched me go about my day. He was an observer; calmly collecting his Intel from whatever comfy perch he could find. 

   

  I didn’t make much money, so I was usually busy with whatever random side-gig I could muster. As much as I loved Jack, I couldn’t really afford to take care of him. I could barely take care of myself. Yet, finding him felt like fate– I couldn’t oust him for something as petty as money. I’d make sure his bowl was filled before mine was.

   

  I didn’t expect Jack to understand or be grateful. He was just a cat, after all. But I hoped he felt loved and safe with me. I’d really grown to cherish the company.

   

  When the landlord collected rent, I found myself in a pinch. I sat at my computer to budget, and realized I’d have to go without for awhile. I didn’t complain. Who would I tell, anyway? I was alone. Jack was all I had.

   

  The next day, I found an envelope on my desk. It was a bank envelope, the same kind I put the rent money in. In fact, when I opened it up– it had a stack of hundred dollar bills inside. It was my rent money, returned. 

   

  Or had I forgotten to hand it over to John? I don’t think he’d have let me forget, yet the money was still in my hand. Jack was sitting on the back of the couch, watching me. He blinked his gleaming eyes slowly, in that affectionate way that cats do.

   

  “Do you know anything about this, Jack?” I asked with a laugh. He cocked his fluffy head in response, as if he were contemplating an answer. I walked over, reaching out to see if he’d let me pet him. Jack allowed it,  arching his body into my palm. 

   

  He was a beautiful cat; his movements were always so fluid and graceful. Sometimes he seemed more like a shadow, melting and twisting in ways that physics wouldn’t allow. Cats are strange, funny creatures. 

   

  “I’d better call the landlord.” I didn’t want John tacking on a late fee, though knowing him, he probably would if he hadn’t already. Any excuse to squeeze another dollar out of me. 

   

  “No.” Jack said. I looked down at him, surprised by the deep rumbling voice. I must have imagined it. The voice didn’t match the body it came from. 

   

  “Don’t bother calling.” Jack spoke again, his tail swishing in a leisurely way. “I took care of it.” 

   

  I was terrified and confused. My cat, on the other hand, looked completely relaxed. From that moment on, our relationship changed. The dynamic shifted, and not in a way I’d wish on anyone.

   

  “You’ve been good to me,” he said. “I will take care of you from now on.”

   

  John never did turn up to collect the rent. I’d tucked the envelope away somewhere safe. Jack didn’t tell me what happened to him, but the answer came. Jack wasn’t really a talker, perhaps because he knew he’d frightened me. He still watched me go about my day, still purred if I so much as glanced in his direction.

   

  I tried to convince myself I’d imagined that voice; a great, big voice that didn’t belong to a small, furry body. Yet, the knowing look in Jack’s eyes seemed all the creepier with the memory gnawing at me. He wasn’t an ordinary cat.

   

  At dinnertime, I filled his bowl as I always did. I refreshed his water. I cleaned his litter box. I clung to the routine and tried to feel comfort in it… but everything had changed. I could feel it. Jack watched me, but he didn’t stay for dinner. He left. He wasn’t anywhere in the house that I could find.

   

  I thought he might be gone forever, but he was apparently a cat of his word. When he returned, he had something in his mouth. A finger. It was a fat, meaty thing. 

   

  My cat gave me the finger. He put it on the table, expectation shining in his jack-o-lantern eyes. I didn’t know what he wanted, recoiling from the grisly gift. I wanted nothing to do with it.

   

  “Eat it.” Jack said, with a deep rumbling voice. I shook my head ‘no’, horrified.  “Eat it.” he repeated, his tail swishing with impatience. “I have provided.”

   

  “I can’t eat this.” 

   

  “Don’t offend me.” his voice was usually more of a purr, but this time it came out as a growl. “I have provided. Eat it. Eat it, or I’ll eat you.”  

   

  So I picked it up. It was cold and stiff. Dirty, too. I brought it to the sink, running it under the tap like that might make it more palatable. My hands were shaking. Jack purred, pleased with my show of obedience.

   

  “Good girl.” he praised me. “You don’t know how to hunt. I will provide.” 

   

  I wasn’t sure what to do with it. I kept staring at the thing in my hand while the cat waited with smug anticipation. 

   

  “Do…. Do I cook it?” I asked. 

   

  He sighed, “If you must.”

   

  So I dropped the finger in a frying pan with butter. I checked my spice rack, adding salt and pepper. I wasn’t sure what flavors went well with human flesh. I didn’t want to find out, but what choice did I have?

   

  When it was ‘done’, I put it on a plate and stared at it. I didn’t want to eat it, I kept hoping I’d wake up from a nightmare I could laugh about later.

   

  “Go on.” he said.

   

  “It’s too hot, it needs to cool.” I answered nervously. 

   

  “Fine…” he sighed.

   

  Several minutes ticked by, simultaneously feeling like an eternity and no time at all. When my time was up, prompted by the nudging of Jack the black cat, I picked up the finger from both ends. I bit into the meaty digit; eating around it like I was holding a tiny corn on the cob. It tasted like bacon.

   

  I stripped away the meat, keeping my eyes closed the whole time. In vain, I tried to pretend it wasn’t what it was. I cried the whole time. When it was done, I put the bone on my plate and fought against my instinct to vomit.

   

  “Are you still hungry?” Jack asked.

   

  “No,” I lied.

   

  “There’s more.”

   

  Four days of fingers, followed by a thumb. Jack brought me one every day. I had a sickening suspicion that the fingers belonged to John, but I didn’t ask. I didn’t need to know who I was eating. Though the taste wasn’t bad, the knowledge of what I was eating was torture. Jack didn’t seem bothered. It didn’t matter if I cried or begged him, he’d remind me sternly:

   

  “I will take care of you. I will provide.”

   

  The police came to my door, asking if I’d seen John. He was reported missing. I said I hadn’t seen him, knowing the finger bones were still sitting in my trash can. If anyone got too close to the truth, I knew Jack would take care of them.

   

  I could count the bodies by the thumbs. When I got the third one, I knew at least one more person had died. Jack always brought the fingers and thumbs, but I don’t know what he did with the rest. There were no reports in the news about bodies. People went missing, but people had always gone missing before. This was nothing new.

   

  Jack keeps me on a tight leash. He doesn’t let me leave the house without his permission. I still go to work and go to the grocery store, but he follows me. No one else sees him, not unless he wants them to. He knows I won’t tell anyone about him, but he also knows I’ll run the first chance I get. 

   

  I don’t know what to do. Even if I told the police, who would believe me? He’d probably kill them. He’s not an ordinary cat. I don’t know what he is.

   

  Apparently he thinks of me as his pet. I don’t know why he chose me, or if he’s done this to anyone else. When I tried to contact the ‘troll’ I’d originally blocked on Facebook, they didn’t reply. I don’t know if they knew something about Jack, or if they really were just trolling. 

   

  Jack says he’ll take care of me, even if I don’t want him to. He acts like it’s all for my own good, but I think he takes pleasure in my fear and pain too. 

   

  I don’t have a cat. A cat has me.

  Posted in Short Stories [Horror] | 0 Comments | Tagged cat, cats, creepy, dark, evil, fiction, finger, good deeds going punished, horror, horror art, horror story, original, short stories, short story, spooktober

• [Short Horror Story] Wishes Don’t Belong in a Bottle

  Posted at 10:21 pm by Penny Tailsup, on October 3, 2019

  

  Originally posted to Reddit

  Spooktober Prompt # 3 – Shallow Seas

  “Wishes Don’t Belong in a Bottle”

   

  When I dropped the first letter into the sea, I didn’t expect a reply.

  I don’t even remember what it said, because it didn’t matter. I figured the bottle would break before anyone would find it; that I’d find myself picking up bits of broken glass when the tide came in. Imagine my surprise when the bottle came back.

  The next day I found it, unbroken and bobbing in the shallows. Empty, but perfectly intact; the lid was still screwed on tight, but my letter was gone. Of course, I could rationalize it at first. It could have been a different bottle. It was unlikely, but still more likely than the idea that someone found my letter and brought the bottle back.

  Anywhere else, an empty bottle on the beach wouldn’t prove anything. However, this bottle was the exact same kind my dad used for his bootlegging business. I found it hard to believe anyone (except me) would waste or lose one of Dad’s empties because my dad charged $10 per beer, and charged even more if he had to give you a new bottle. His customers would bring back the empties so he could refill them.

  That’s why I could believe it was the same bottle I’d dropped into the water, even when I knew it was impossible. I’d stolen the first bottle for my letter, both on a whim and as an act of rebellion. My dad spent his days making beer or drinking it, scraping together a living that way. The ferry would bring everything he needed; the import and sale of alcohol wasn’t allowed, but that didn’t stop him from ordering the ingredients. It was an open secret. Our village safety officer was probably his best customer.

  Most of the villagers would change jobs from boats, fisheries, and canneries as the seasons demanded– except for my dad. He was afraid of the water. Only sparingly would he take his old boat out to neighboring villages across the bay, but he’d never take me. He was afraid of losing me like he lost mom, but I guess he wasn’t scared of losing himself.

  Our relationship was rocky. I felt depressed, angry and trapped. I was tired of washing out the empties only so he could fill them again and again. I felt so alone. There was no one my age around and the only time I could try to make real friends was when I took the ferry to Kodiak without permission. My dad wouldn’t let me go, and everyone knew better than to let me on by then.

  I couldn’t explain why the bottle came back when the letter didn’t, so I tried again. I wrote a little note that said ‘Do you want to be friends?’ and tossed it underhand into the water. The first time might have been a fluke, or maybe someone else really did leave a bottle by accident. I wanted to see if it would happen a second time.

  Dad noticed the second time. Not that I’d thrown a bottle into the sea, but that it was missing.

  “Alex, one of my bottles is gone.” he said when I got home. “Do you know what happened to it?” he wasn’t angry, only annoyed. Getting anything imported took time and money so he hated having to buy new bottles.

  “I dropped it.” I said, which wasn’t a lie. I just didn’t tell him I dropped it into the sea. “Sorry dad. I can take the ferry and–”

  “No.” he cut me off immediately. “I’ll just order a couple cases with my next shipment. You don’t need to go anywhere. I could use more anyway.”

  A fight broke out after that, though it was nothing new. Dad never let me leave, and it wasn’t because I was some irresponsible kid. I was more responsible than he was! He knew it, too. Never denied it. Even so, he would still tell me no.

  After our screaming match, I went back out onto the rocky beach to cool off. I lay down and let the jagged stones bite into my back, staring at the stars and listening to the sea. Mom loved the ocean too. She was still out there, somewhere in the water. I liked to imagine she was still alive, enjoying her freedom. I knew it wasn’t true.

  Sometimes I’d lay there and fantasize about going out with the tide so I could join her. I never did, though it seemed like a good idea on my darkest days. I was young though; I knew this wasn’t going to be my life forever. One day I’d get on the ferry and I’d never come back. Dad had to know that, he could only stop me for so long.

  When it got too cold, I sat back up so I could head back to the house. That’s when I saw the bottle again, the wet glass reflected moonlight. I walked over, half expecting to find my letter still folded up inside… but once again, it was empty. The glass, by some miracle, didn’t have as much as a crack. The cap was still in place.

  No way.

  I pulled out my notebook, tearing out another square. Someone was getting my letters! They were sending the bottles back without replying, but they were definitely getting them. I wasn’t sure how it was possible, but I was excited!

  I wrote out a little note:

  ‘Who are you? Won’t you reply? My name is Alex.’

  I neatly folded it, sliding my message into the bottle with care. Of course, the possibility that it was all a coincidence remained–but I didn’t want that to be true. I wanted to feel less alone. Even though it was cold, I sat down on my favorite rock and watched my glass messenger float away. I sat there for a long time, as if the great mystery of it might be solved… if I only waited patiently enough.

  I was surprised when Dad came to get me. He was stubborn, like I was; he never admitted when he worried, though I knew he did. His rustbucket red truck creaked and groaned so loud that I knew he was coming before I even heard his voice.

  “Alex!” he called out to me. He wouldn’t get too close to the water, though I wasn’t sure if he was conscious of that. He stood out by his truck, hands cupped around his mouth like a makeshift megaphone. “Come on back!”

  I took one last look at the bay. I didn’t see the bottle anymore, though it’s easy to lose sight of something so small in a vast ocean.

  “Only if you let me drive!” I called back. My dad handled his alcohol well enough, but I don’t think he was ever sober enough to drive. As I walked up to greet him, he pressed the keys into my hand and climbed into the passenger’s seat. He never argued over the keys, he knew better.

  “I talked to your aunt,” he said, once the truck was moving again. “She’s coming for a visit. Quincy and Shasta are coming too.”

  “That’s nice.” I answered, but I knew this was just a distraction. He must have called her and asked her to come. He knew if I had visitors, I might stop thinking about leaving for awhile. Still, I’d take what company I could get. Auntie was Mom’s sister, she lived in Kodiak with most of my extended family. I’d be happy to see them.

  We got along well, even though I was never allowed to visit. I was closest to Auntie; she’d send me gifts on the ferry with Dad’s shipments; like notebooks, pens and colored pencils. Auntie knew I liked to write and draw, and that I didn’t have access to art supplies on my own. Dad couldn’t afford to get them for me because his margins were razor thin. I’d be more understanding if it wasn’t because he drank what he didn’t sell.

  “Tomorrow you should go out and pick some berries.” he continued. He hated silences, he was always trying to fill them. “We can make something nice to eat for her visit. I bet everyone would like that.”

  “Sure.” I answered. He didn’t want me anywhere near the ocean, but that’d be quite a feat to manage when we were living in a coastal village. He couldn’t keep me away from the beach, though I knew he’d like to.

  When we got back to the house, he gave me a one-armed hug and held me to him for a second. I pulled away quickly, looking up at him to see what had him so sentimental. Dad wasn’t usually a hugger.

  “You’re just like your mother,” he said. He was smiling, but his eyes were looking a little red. “It scares me sometimes.” he must have been drunker than I’d thought, since he wasn’t usually so forthright with how he was feeling.

  “Mom was a good person, I’m glad to be like her.”

  “I know. I love you both so much.” he refused to use past tense when he talked about her. I did. Not because I didn’t miss her too, but because I had long accepted she was gone.

  “… So, when’s Auntie coming?”

  “The three o’clock ferry. You’re going to have to share your room with your cousins.” it would be a tight fit, but we’d make it work. “I’ll take the couch, so your aunt can use my room.” he said, as if he ever made it off the couch. He always passed out there! Instead of saying so, I nodded. I didn’t feel like starting another fight that night.

  “Sounds good. I’m going to bed, then.” I said instead. “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight.”

  I went to bed, but he didn’t. I listened to him drink; the soft clink of glass bottles with the occasional slurp-and-sigh. Sometimes he’d talk like mom was in the room with him, but of course she wasn’t. That night was no different. I listened for a little while, it was amusing to hear him talk about me. As if I couldn’t hear, but mom could.

  “I’m worried about Alex.”

  But I was more worried about Dad. He didn’t need to worry about me, but I knew he did. I knew because he said so, just not to my face. I fell asleep wondering what he was so worried about. What reason did I ever give him?

  Bright and early the next morning, I cleaned up the fresh empties arranged by the kitchen sink. I let them dry in the dish rack, listening to my dad snore on the couch. He’d probably wake up around noon.

  I decided to go to the beach. I’d be back before he even noticed. When I reached the shoreline, I found what I was looking for. There was the bottle again; this time it was caught on a cluster of rocks rather than in the water. I walked over, picking it up and examining it closely. It was empty, and the glass didn’t have so much as a crack.

  I pulled out my notebook, this time choosing one of my favorite poems. With care, I folded it into a little boat and carefully managed to feed it through the opening of the bottle. Sure, it bent a little…, but you could still tell what it was supposed to be. A ship in a bottle.

  I waded out into the cold water as far as I could safely go, getting soaked to the bone. I didn’t care. I let go of the bottle, watching it move at the whim of the waves as I slowly backed up towards the shore. I didn’t take my eyes off of it, but nothing unusual happened. I guess this was a “watched pot doesn’t boil” situation.

  Once I was back on the beach, I started to wring the water out of my clothes and shiver. This was Alaska, the ocean was always cold. Dad would probably be pissed if he saw me wet, so I didn’t linger too long. I knew I wouldn’t see anything even if I did. Apparently this message in a bottle was a secret of the sea.

  Part of me hoped that my mother was the one getting the messages, though I knew that was impossible. But was it really any more impossible than what was happening? Someone was reading my messages. Someone was sending the bottle back. Why couldn’t it be her?

  I walked back home. As expected, Dad was still snoring on the couch; he hadn’t missed me at all. I showered and changed into dry clothes, then got ready to go pick wild blueberries. I was looking forward to Auntie and my cousins visiting. To be a good host, I’d make blueberry pancakes for breakfast the next day!

  By the time noon rolled around, I had a bucket full. Dad was awake, and smiled with approval when he saw me with my haul and purple fingers. The ferry would arrive soon, and I’d go pick everyone up. I cleaned up what I could, though the house still smelled like a brewery.

  When the time came, Dad and I headed to the dock. I drove us of course, but Dad wanted to come help load up any luggage or shipments that might have come in. Auntie and Dad had a strained relationship these days, but he was always polite to her even when she wasn’t polite to him. She didn’t approve of his drinking. I didn’t either, so I didn’t really fault her when she criticized him for it.

  “Alex!” I saw her immediately, her salt-and-pepper braid was wind-tousled and frizzy from the trip across the water. It was a windy day. My cousins Shasta and Quincy were there too, looking a little chapped from the wind.

  “Hey guys!” I ran over to hug them. Dad was already grabbing everything he could carry and loading up the back of the truck. The cab only fit two people, so I’d walk back with Shasta and Quincy. Auntie could ride back with dad, so long as Auntie did the driving.

  Shasta was younger than me, and Quincy was a little older– but they were energetic boys. The ‘walk’ home turned into a race that Quincy won. He was in better shape than he had been the last time I saw him.

  “Mom let me start working at the lumber mill.” he told me when I asked. “She’s still too scared to let anyone on a fishing boat, but at least she lets us on the ferry.” he shot me a sympathetic look. He knew about my dad’s fear of the sea.

  “I don’t know why you want to work.” Shasta laughed, “I’m glad I don’t have to.”

  “You’ll want to. Especially when you see women all over me and not you!” Quincy laughed right back, giving his brother a good-natured jab. “Do you have a job, Alex?”

  I shook my head. “No, I just help dad with his business. He doesn’t want me to have a job until I graduate. Even over the summer and spring break, he said I should enjoy the breaks while I still get them.”

  “Makes sense.” Quincy answered, nodding.

  “I guess.”

  “Does your dad’s 3-Wheeler still work?” Shasta interrupted, pointing at the old thing. It was covered by a tarp that used to be blue.

  “Yeah, but the gas is expensive. It’s easier just to walk.” I replied, somewhat dismissive. Shasta looked excited though.

  “Do you think he’ll let us use it?”

  “You can ask?” I wasn’t sure. Dad wasn’t really opposed to using ATVs, just things that cost money or went on the ocean. Having guests over was rare though, so he might say yes. He’d always taught me the importance of being a good host. I watched Shasta run inside, yelling his question. A minute later, he was back with a huge grin.

  “Come on! I’m driving it!”

  I pulled off the tarp and made sure it still had gas in it. It wasn’t really big enough for the three of us, but we’d make it work.

  “…Ok. So… the beach?” I asked. The boys agreed, and we set out. Once we got there, they took turns driving up and down the strip. I left them to it, glad they were having fun but definitely distracted.

  It didn’t take me long to find what I was looking for.

  This time the bottle was sitting on top of a rock like someone had set it there. It was empty. I picked it up, rolling the cold glass between my hands in amazement. I unscrewed the cap, grabbed the neck of the bottle and then held it to my eye. Nope, nothing. Not even a grain of sand or a drop of water was inside.

  “Whoa! Your dad letting you drink now?” Shasta came running over when he saw me, recognizing one of dad’s beer bottles.

  “No, of course not.” when it came to me, Dad was very responsible. Too responsible. Smothering.

  “What’s with the bottle then?” Quincy hopped off the 3-wheeler and walked over. He was in a lot less of a rush than his younger brother. I debated telling them, but ran the risk of getting made fun of if I did. I was quiet, putting the lid back on and holding the glass carefully in front of me with both hands. Taking a deep breath, I decided… why not?

  “You might not believe this, but…I keep putting letters in this bottle. Then I drop them in the water, and the letters disappear… but the bottle comes back. I mean, it’s happened three times already.”

  “That’s creepy!” I blinked at Shasta’s reaction. I’d expected them not to believe me, or to think it was cool. Creepy? I didn’t feel like it was creepy at all. I felt heard.

  “You sure someone isn’t messing with you?” Quincy’s reaction was more in line with what I expected, but it was still hard not to be defensive.

  “It’d be an expensive way to mess with me, right? Dad charges $3 just for the bottle so that people won’t lose or break them.”

  “I guess.” Quincy said, squinting at the bottle. “Why, though?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged. I had a suspicion. I thought maybe it was Mom, but… that much I wasn’t willing to admit.

  “If it’s some kind of magic shit going on, you should try making a wish.” Shasta chimed in. “I mean, what’s the harm?”

  “It’s not magic.” Quincy interjected logically. “It’s a prank, or a coincidence, or someone dropped a whole crate of bottles in the water by accident and you keep finding them.”

  “I guess I’m making a wish then.” I laughed, trying to play it off and act cool. I took out my notebook again, scribbling down something that I really hoped might come true.

  ‘Hi, this is Alex again.

  My cousin said I should make a wish, so… here goes: I wish my dad would stop drinking, or at least let me on the ferry. Either would make me happy. I don’t know if you can grant my wish. I don’t think anyone can, but… thank you for hearing me out.’

  I folded it up carefully. Shasta wanted to read it, but I didn’t let him. Again, I set the bottle adrift on the water. I watched my wish, wondering if I was asking too much. Even if I believed that my one sided pen-pal could grant wishes, it didn’t seem possible that my dad could change.

  Regret hit me like a wave; like a physical blow, I actually staggered back. It wasn’t because I didn’t want my wish come true, it because I didn’t want Mom to see it. Mom would be sad if I told her what was going on with Dad. I had no proof she was even the one getting these messages, but my stomach still knotted up at the thought.

  Before I could pluck it out of the water, I heard my dad’s truck coming up the beach. Auntie had come over to get us.

  “I said an hour!” she called, but she wasn’t really mad. She wagged her finger at us, but we all grinned sheepishly.

  “Sorry!”

  I hadn’t realized so much time had passed already. It felt like it had only been five minutes, but sure enough… it had been an hour and a half.

  “Alex!” Auntie called. “Come ride with me!”

  “Sure!” I started jogging over, trusting my cousins to get the 3-wheeler back safely. I got into the passenger’s seat. Auntie watched me buckle in before starting the truck back up, but she didn’t start driving right away. Instead, she left the gear in park and looked at me with her familiar warm smile. Mom had the same smile.

  “I’ve really missed you, Alex. I’m sorry we don’t visit more.”

  “That’s OK.” I looked at my feet.

  “Well, I want to see you more. So… I’ve been talking to your dad and we decided…” she started tapping on the steering wheel, averting her gaze. I knew that when she said ‘talking’ she really meant ‘fighting’.

  “Well. I decided.” she corrected herself, straightening up in her seat. “I decided that next summer, you’re coming to Kodiak and staying with us. Just for the summer.” she added that last part quickly. “I’m not taking no for an answer. I’ll buy your ticket, and I’ll come get you if I have to.”

  “Really? Dad agreed to that?” the long silence answered the question before she did.

  “… No. But he will. If you act like it’s a sure thing, I’m sure he’ll cave by then. He loves you, he wants to protect you– but he knows he’s going to have to loosen the reigns a bit, especially if he wants to have a relationship with you when you grow up.”

  “I’m already grown up.”

  She laughed when I said that, and I pretended to be offended. Crossing my arms, I tried not to grin. A summer in Kodiak sounded great to me! It couldn’t come soon enough!

  The rest of the ride back was a blur, but I remember that the house smelled like pineapple and honey rather than beer when I walked through the door. Auntie had me sit down, and prepared a big slice of pineapple upside down cake for me. We had cake for dinner, celebrating a birthday she’d missed. She’d brought presents, new art supplies to refresh my collection. Everything was wrapped up with pretty paper and ribbons, too. It was surprising that she’d planned all of this so last minute!

  Unless… dad hadn’t been letting her come, and she’d had all of these things already. He didn’t say a word through dinner, I could tell he was angry even if he wasn’t saying so. At least, he didn’t say anything at first.

  “You excited about next summer?” Shasta asked. At least, I’m pretty sure that’s what he said. His mouth was still full of cake.

  “Yeah!” I answered with enthusiasm. That’s when Dad’s fist hit the table.

  “NO.”

  “Paul–” Auntie immediately touched his arm, surprised by his sudden outburst. Dad knocked her hand away.

  “I said no! It’s not happening! Alex, I’m sorry, but don’t get your hopes up. You’re not going.”

  “Maybe we should go have this conversation somewhere else.” Auntie said in as level a voice she could manage, but I could tell she was angry too.

  “Maybe you should leave.” Dad answered, “Get out. Get out NOW. Don’t you dare come over here and make decisions. You know what happened! Yet here you are, trying to be the parent. I’m the parent, not you.”

  I was stunned. The sweet taste in my mouth went sour. I became so angry I was shaking. Standing up from the table, I started walking out.

  “… Figure this out. I’ll come back… when I cool down.” I didn’t want to say anything I’d regret. I was already in tears.

  “Alex…” Auntie tried to stop me. She touched my shoulder, but I pulled away.

  “I’ll be back, just leave me alone for awhile.” I didn’t want to hear them fight. I didn’t want them to fight because of me… but most of all, I wanted my dad to see reason. Couldn’t he see how out of control his fear was getting?

  Predictably, I went back to the beach. This time, I didn’t find the bottle. I didn’t find anything but a chilly wind and a black sea. I searched for an hour before coming back. Dad wasn’t at the house, but I saw the truck was already loaded up with luggage. They’d take the ferry back in the morning.

  “Sorry.” Shasta mouthed when he saw me, but I shook my head. It wasn’t his fault. The only person I really blamed here was my dad. He didn’t come back. In the morning, I dropped everyone off at the dock. I asked if they were really going, but unfortunately they were.

  “We’ll see you next summer.” Quincy told me, “Just work on wearing your old man down. Worst case scenario, we can come here. Don’t worry too much, OK?”

  “Yeah.” but I was going to worry about it. I saw them off and went home. Dad still wasn’t back. It wasn’t like him to storm off and disappear, but that fight had been a doozy. I’d never seen him so angry before. I didn’t look for him at first, figuring he must have really needed to cool off just like I had.

  I went to the beach again. Clearly, my wish hadn’t been granted. For a second in the truck with Auntie, I thought it had been. At least partially. But of course, it’s never that simple.

  I found the bottle, it was in the same place as last time– set on top of the rock I liked to sit on, like someone had put it there. It was empty.

  This time, I took the bottle home without sending a letter. I continued to wait for my dad to come back, but he didn’t. I knew he hadn’t been on the ferry, but he also wasn’t around town. No one had seen him.

  It took me longer than it should have to check his boat. It wasn’t in the shed where it should have been. He must have taken it out on the water, though I had no idea why he would. He had no reason to take it out to town in the dead of night, especially without telling me where he was going.

  I called Auntie, but I did my best not to scare her. Instead of asking if she’d seen Dad, I asked if she’d talked to him.

  She hadn’t.

  That’s when I finally reported him missing. The longer he was gone, the more I worried. I wanted him home. At this point, I didn’t even care about the fight– no matter how ridiculous it was, or how much I hated being stuck in the village… I loved my dad.

  I took the bottle out to the beach again, in a last-ditch effort… I decided to try making a wish again. I didn’t think it would work, but it felt better to do something. I couldn’t wait at home doing nothing.

  ‘Hi, this is Alex.

  I’m worried about my dad. We had a big fight, and I haven’t seen him. I wish he was home. Thank you for hearing me out. Sorry I stopped writing, it just felt weird while he was gone.’

  I didn’t watch my message float away. I knew I wouldn’t see where it went, or who took it. I went home and tried to sleep, but all I could think about was my dad lost at sea. When I closed my eyes, I saw his little white boat being tossed about dark waves. I saw him, terrified, as he was swallowed up by the sea.

  After the nightmare, I knew I couldn’t wait. I took Dad’s truck, foot heavy on the gas the whole way there. I jumped out, leaving the headlights on so they could illuminate my view in the dark.

  Right as I reached the beach, a wave came out of nowhere…I was knocked over and thrown onto my back as the dark water hit me like a punch. As I blindly tried to push myself back up, my hands came into contact with something smooth and icy cold.

  Blinking the saltwater out of my eyes, I knew before I could even see that I’d found the bottle. It was heavy in my hands; I hugged it to my chest so I wouldn’t drop it and scrambled over to my sitting rock.

  Eagerly, I looked down at the bottle. It seemed to have some rocks or something in it? No, that wasn’t right. They didn’t rattle around the glass like rocks would. Weird. I uncapped the bottle with numb fingers, tilting the bottle so I could pour the contents in my hands.

  Whatever it was, it got stuck. The neck of the bottle wasn’t wide enough. I brought it to my eye, looking inside. The glass shattered before I even registered dropping it. Fingers and toes rolled across the rocky beach. Severed and blue, but… unmistakable. I could see nails, and even little sprouts of dark hair. The cuts weren’t clean, they were jagged with loose bits of skin flapping at the ends.

  It looked like they hadn’t been cut off, but… torn. Chewed up, and spit back into this bottle. No. I was still back at home, having a nightmare.

  I had to be.

  Backing away from the grisly discovery, I noticed that more than just a bottle had washed up on the shore. I saw an elbow, an ear, and even a foot without it’s toes. I screamed until my throat was raw. I ran. I slipped and fell repeatedly on the wet rocks. I tripped on my father’s head, mouth agape and filled with water and foam.

  I found my way to town, still screaming and sobbing. I had his head in my hands; it felt like cold clay. Clammy. His eyes were gone, the sockets empty… like they’d been scooped out. I don’t remember what happened after that, I only know that I wouldn’t let go of his head. I wouldn’t stop screaming.

  State Troopers came to town the next day, combing the beach to find everything as it washed up. By then, I was numb. They took his body away in a dozen trash bags. I answered their questions, but I don’t remember what they asked or what I said.

  My aunt came to stay with me while the investigation went on. No one suspected foul play. It was ruled an accident; they said he must have fallen out of his boat. That he might have been run over by another boat. That the sea-life and rough water tore him up.

  I didn’t tell anyone about the bottle. I couldn’t.

  But on my last day in town, before I went to live with Auntie in Kodiak… I brought another bottle to the beach. There was one last message I needed to send. One last question I had to ask:

  ‘Mom? Is that you?

  Please answer me if it is.’

  That bottle never came back.

  Posted in Short Stories [Horror] | 0 Comments | Tagged alaska, alcoholism, art, bottle, creepy, dark, fiction, horror, nosleep, ocean, original, scary story, sea, short stories, short story, spooktober, story, village life, wishes, writing

• [Short Horror Story] My Boss’s Latest MLM Really Changed Me

  Posted at 2:17 pm by Penny Tailsup, on October 1, 2019

  

  “Are you going to the Butterfly Party tonight, Kari? I must have missed your RSVP.” Shannon was shameless, as usual. “You are coming, right? It’s going to change your life.”

   

  “Oh!” I straightened in my seat, internally screaming.  “Of course I’m coming! I’m sorry, I thought I responded already.” I hadn’t thought that. I’d just hoped she wouldn’t notice. All of Shannon’s parties were a sales pitch to some sort of Multi-Level Marketing Pyramid scheme. The company and products changed every few months, but the sales pitch stayed the same: these products will change your life!

   

  There’s nothing worse than an #bossbabe who is also your boss. No matter what ridiculous program Shannon got wrapped up in, she had subordinates who couldn’t tell her no. I was no exception. The mass text she’d sent last week had been a barely-decipherable block of emojis and buzz words. I couldn’t even tell what the product was, but it didn’t really matter. Technically, she couldn’t force us to go… but people who didn’t tended to work Saturdays. 

   

  “Great! Don’t forget to bring a swimsuit!”  I had a feeling she knew exactly how unenthusiastic everyone was, she just didn’t care. Julie and I exchanged mutual looks of amusement and defeat as Shannon flounced on by.

   

  Once the boss was out of earshot, Richie walked over to my desk, delighted to announce that he hadn’t been invited. “Looks like this one is ladies only.” he said sympathetically. At least, he was trying to look sympathetic. He was too giddy, having dodged the bullet himself!

   

  “You weren’t invited?” I asked. “I mean, even if it’s makeup or something she’s usually like ‘oh, pick something out for your girlfriend’!”

   

  “I mean, I’m not going to ask why not. She’d probably invite me.” he laughed, unable to help himself. 

   

  “I’ll ask her then!” I threatened, though we both knew I wouldn’t. He raised his hands in mock surrender. I was annoyed, but not at him. 

   

  “Oh no please don’t–”

   

  “.. Oh no.” Julie interrupted, covering her face. She’d gone beet red. It took me a moment to realize why. 

   

  “Oh no.” I echoed. 

   

  “What?” Richie asked, not catching on. I turned red too. If men weren’t invited, that probably meant this was going to be a sales pitch of an intimate nature. Not again!  I still couldn’t look at Agnes the same way after hearing her happily endorse her vibrating purchase. No thank you. Agnes had always been an irredeemable brown noser but she’d hit new lows that day.

   

  “Now I kind of want to come.” Richie admitted, grinning. “Especially since I heard the part about the swimsuits.”

   

  “Ugh, shut up.” I groaned, horrified. He gave a salute before going to bother someone else. The rest of that shift was a dreadful blur; I hated my job, but hated the idea of Shannon’s party even more. There had to be a better way to spend a Friday night, but Shannon couldn’t be blown off without serious professional repercussions. 

   

  Her parties usually took place in her living room, the Butterfly Party was no exception. When I walked in with Julie, our fears were confirmed: the windows were covered and the lights were dimmed. The furniture was covered in plastic.

   

   On the coffee table, I saw the usual vegetable tray and a selection of gas station wines. It didn’t look like enough wine. Agnes was already on her second glass… if the wine stain on her blouse was any indication.

   

  Our host was arranging things on a small covered table, little bottles and purple pouches of whatever product she was peddling. The room smelled like flowers, probably an essential oil from her last “business” venture. 

   

  “I’m glad everyone could make it.” Shannon said, “I know I say this every time, but… this product is going to change your life.”  There were four of us sitting on the sectional in silence; Julie, Agnes, Cindy, and myself. Only Agnes clapped her hands together, somehow managing to muster up the enthusiasm everyone else lacked.

   

  “So, you might have noticed that this party is ladies only.” she continued. Julie and I exchanged looks again. Yes, we’d noticed. The plastic-covered furniture, blocked windows and dark room hadn’t exactly been reassuring. 

   

  “It’s not what you think, I promise. I learned my lesson.” our boss laughed. “I wanted to give all the ladies in the office a spa day to show my appreciation. The first time is free! I have enough product for everyone to try before buying. Plus, I thought it would be a good team-building experience. Did everyone remember to bring a swimsuit? I have a couple extras if anyone needs to borrow one.” 

   

  I was wearing a bikini under my clothes, though it was definitely out of season and I was feeling bloated and fat. Still, like everyone else, I went along with whatever Shannon said. Body issues aside, I felt relieved. I didn’t really mind trying out new beauty or skincare products. Usually I’d buy whatever was cheapest out of the catalog and call it a day.

   

  “Alright, suit up and pair up!” Shannon smiled, excited. “It’s easier to apply the product with a partner. This is a full-body treatment.” Naturally, Julie and I were a team since we were already friends. Everyone stripped down to their swimsuits awkwardly. I was horrified to be the only one in a bikini. I don’t know what I’d been thinking.

   

   “It’s a bit messy, but don’t worry. That’s what the plastic is for! Don’t worry about the floors either, I’ll mop up after.”  Shannon assured us. “We’re going to do Chrysalis Beauty Wraps by Butterfly Beauty and transform ourselves. I hope you’re excited, I know I am. The first step? Exfoliation!” 

   

  A large tub of what looked like dirty sugar went around the room. Each of us were instructed to scoop up generous handfuls of the stuff to ‘prime’ our skin, rubbing ourselves raw with the coarse scrub. 

   

  “This is a nourishing sugar scrub made with organic fair trade sugar crystals.” Shannon explained. “This one has a lovely hibiscus-rose scent. What do you think, Kari?” 

   

  “… It’s nice.” I answered awkwardly, though to me it seemed like a sticky, smelly mess. I knew better than to be honest. “Does this have coconut oil in it?” I pretended I was interested, and she nodded enthusiastically before moving on to Cindy. 

   

  “Don’t forget your elbows, hon.” Shannon chirped, “Get under the suit too. No need to be shy. It’s just us ladies today!” she prowled around the room, giving tips in a syrupy voice. “Scrub in a circular motion.” 

   

  Once she was satisfied with our scrubbing, she brought out a bottle of amber gel. “This is Butterfly Beauty’s Hot Honey Activating Gel. It stimulates your metabolism, tightens your skin, and encourages sweating. The best part is that it also prevents fat buildup in the subcutaneous layers of your skin. This product makes your beach body goals attainable all year long!” 

   

  We were each handed our own “deluxe” sample. I didn’t believe the sales pitch but dutifully began smearing it all over. It was greasy rather than sticky. I’d expected it to be honey thanks to the color, but it wasn’t. Shannon was talking about the ingredients, but I wasn’t really listening. As I smudged the stuff over my arms… it stung, and began to burn! 

   

  “The tingle only lasts a moment.” Shannon assured us. “Push through it, hon! It will be SO worth it.”

   

  Tingle my ass! It hurt! I glanced around the room, the pale faces contorted in pain confirmed that I wasn’t the only one who was suffering. I was starting to sweat too; an itchy sensation prickling everywhere the product made contact. I opted not to lather up under my bikini, despite Shannon’s urging. Fortunately, she was too busy paying attention to everyone else to notice I hadn’t. 

   

  It was an awkward dance of coworkers shimmying around on the floor and furniture, sticking their hands down their suits and trying to maneuver while maintaining some shred of modesty. Julie and I rubbed the stuff on each other’s back reluctantly, that persistent burning itch instantly flaring.

   

  This was not the relaxing spa day Shannon had promised. I noticed that she wasn’t participating either, just passing the products around and making sure we used them. I glared at her, but when she caught my gaze I quickly looked away.

   

  “Relief is coming, ladies!” she assured us. “Two more steps, but this will probably be your favorite part.” she picked up a bundle of purple silk pouches, passing one to each of us. Inside was a sweet-smelling mix of dried flowers, shredded coconut, and some sort of shimmery powder. It was iridescent and pretty, like it belonged in a bowl on the mantle. 

   

  “Press this into your skin. Every inch! The activating gel will make it stick.” I scooped some up in my palm, feeling an instant cooling relief. The pain stopped, though a numb tingle remained. “This is Butterfly Beauty’s Butterfly Wing Potpourri Powder.” she explained, “This nourishing mix will not only perfect your skin, it also has stress-relieving properties.” 

   

  To be fair, the pain going away did in fact relieve my stress. A ripple of sighs filled the room. 

   

  “Don’t crush it, use a gentle pressure.” Shannon instructed, pacing around the room. I sprinkled it on my arms, my stomach, my chest, my legs… pressed the gritty, soft mix onto the greasy mess, and let the relief wash over me. Agnes had abandoned her swimsuit altogether, though she was covered in too much product for the look to be explicitly offensive.

   

  “I could roll in this stuff!” Julie told me. We got each other’s backs. Of course, the relieving effect only mattered in the places I’d put the gel. It felt dry and crunchy otherwise! I couldn’t wait to take a shower and get the messy slop off of me. Whatever this product was, I wasn’t buying it. 

   

  While everyone ooh’d and ah’d from relief and started going for their wine glasses, our boss prepared green sheets to complete the wrap. She called them Butterfly Beauty’s Cocoon Complexion Caressing Sheets. After downing more wine, we took turns wrapping each other in the chalky, clay-like squares.  I wrapped Julia in the stuff and she wrapped me. Shannon said it was some kind of organic dead sea kelp saran wrap, which didn’t even make sense. I wasn’t in the business of arguing with her though, I was just relieved we were almost done.

   

  We were instructed to get comfortable, and we spread out on the furniture while Shannon turned on what she claimed were infrared lights. The room was colored with red light, and we all began to sweat again under the wraps.

   

  Weirdly, the sheets seemed to tighten up and harden. It began to get a little hard to move. The longer we sat, the tighter and harder it became. Getting nervous, I flexed my muscles and twisted in my body in an attempt to loosen the wrap… It didn’t work. 

   

  “Just relax, Kari. Even a worm like you can be a butterfly.” Shannon purred, her voice still syrupy sweet.

   

  “Excuse me?”

   

  “You heard me. You think I don’t know the way you bitches complain about me. The looks you give each other when I invite you to my parties? I don’t even need to sell products. I make good money already. I just wanted to experience … sisterhood! Friendship! To live my best life. All of you…” she pointed a finger at each of us in turn. “All of you want to be miserable. Well, I’m not going to let you.” 

   

  I tried to stand up, but nearly toppled over. I couldn’t move my joints at all. The only parts of us not covered were our heads!

   

  “I’m  a good boss. I’m your friend.” Shannon continued, “I found this company. This transformative product… and they promised it would change everything. That you’d all thank me, and mean it.”

   

  “Shannon, I can’t move….” Agnes whined. “I’ve always liked your parties, but maybe I’m allergic to something in this?” 

   

  “No, that just means it’s working. It’s organic! You can’t be allergic.” Shannon said dismissively. “Sit tight, ladies! It’ll take a few hours, please try to relax. I rented some good movies to watch while we wait.” she popped in some romcom, but I was far too busy freaking out to even notice what it was. 

   

  I struggled to get up; my knees couldn’t bend but I was still able to shift my weight and flail to my feet somehow. It didn’t matter because I couldn’t keep my balance– I fell forward, crashing into the coffee table. Wine bottles shattered, vegetables went rolling to the floor, and I was left groaning. I wasn’t seriously hurt. I felt like I was wearing a full-body helmet!

   

  “See what you did? Ugh. Good thing you’re thin or I’d make you stay there…” Shannon yanked me off the table, inelegantly shoving me back onto the couch. “Now stay put. Hopefully it still works, but I’m not responsible if it doesn’t!”

   

  “Don’t touch me you Stepfordwife-looking bitch!” I screamed back, though my voice came off a little more shrill than intended. Shannon smiled at me, apparently deciding I was all bark and no bite. Probably because I couldn’t move.

   

  “Hold on, let me get you fixed up, hon.” 

   

  There were cracks in the hardened shell that encased my arms, but it wasn’t enough to break free. I still couldn’t bend my limbs, but now I had a glimpse of mottled skin through the splits; I was blistered and discolored, that burning itch erupting visibly, a screaming red rash that even made my follicles quiver.

   

  The pain faded when my boss brought over a fresh Cocoon sheet, wrapping my arm  and covering the cracks. She patted my shoulder, then pulled away from me. I heard her take a few deep breaths, count slowly back from ten… then fix the smile back on her face as she turned back towards us.

   

  “Sorry, I’m not sure where the outbursts came from. I’m not trying to scare you or anything. This is a good product, it’s just not like anything you’ve ever tried before. It’s a little uncomfortable now, but it’ll be worth it.”

   

  “… Have you used it?” Julie asked, her breathing was a little strained.

   

  “No.” Shannon admitted, “Not yet. The company said it was best to wait. Besides, it’s a two person job at least and I need to  get each of you through the transformation first.” 

   

  “What do you mean transformation? This doesn’t seem like any wrap I’ve ever had before. I don’t like it.” Julie replied. “It’s getting harder to breathe. Please get it off me.” 

   

  “This is a meditative beauty experience. Relax. Give into it; shed your cynicism. Let the Chrysalis Beauty Wrap by Butterfly Beauty pull out the toxins and rejuvenate your skin. You’ll have a flawless complexion and a new outlook in no time!” 

   

  The sales pitches never ended with Shannon, even when we were a captive audience. Yet she wondered why we didn’t like her? 

   

  “I don’t care, please take it off… please…I’ll work every Saturday for the next six months. Please.” Julie begged, her voice breaking off into sobs. We’d always hated MLM parties, but the Butterfly Party was on a whole new level. 

   

  “Julie, you’re not being a team player right now. I wish you’d give this a chance and stop lowering morale.” I never liked Shannon, but this was going too far even for her. Instead of admitting this party was yet another bust in a long line of failed ventures… she was doubling down. 

   

  My skin crawled. I wasn’t in pain, but I was sure I could feel a squirming and burrowing sensation everywhere the activating gel had touched. The itch started to come back, but as much as I wanted to… it was impossible to scratch. I couldn’t move my arms, let alone chip away the glistening jade chrysalis. I wanted to curl into a ball and claw at my screaming epidermis, but I was frozen. My whole body was an itch I couldn’t scratch… and that feeling didn’t go away for hours. It had to have been hours, right?

   

  A sensation like static filled my limbs. Unable to move, it was like my entire body fell asleep but my mind was awake. The sounds around me were muffled and indistinct; if my coworkers or boss were talking, I couldn’t hear them. The light of the room tunnelled into a tiny red pinprick in a field of black. 

   

  I screamed. Sharp pains erupted all over my body, like a needle probing every pore. My limbs tried to spasm, but I still couldn’t move.  By some miracle, tiny fissures rippled across the green… cracking the tough prison enough that I felt some of the pressure release. The wrappings began to crumble, falling away in gooey clumps.

   

  Freedom washed over me like a summer breeze, but the feeling didn’t last. My skin began to bubble, twitch and even… tickle. I looked down at my arms and saw fluttering flaps of skin. It took me a moment to realize they were wings; thousands of wings, red and fleshy things. Tiny butterflies. Too many to count.

   

  I watched with repulsed fascination and terror as they emerged from blister cocoons–  they chewed through my skin, widening my pores and leaving me full of holes. They seemed to erupt all at once, taking flight on glossy wet wings with a spray of my own blood.

   

  The pain was excruciating, but I was the only one who was screaming. There was something wrong about that; my bloodshot eyes swiveled around the room. Clouds of bloody butterflies were joining together, ripping out of their hosts. Out of Julie, Agnes, Cindy and I. 

   

  But my coworkers weren’t moving, they were perfectly still. They were smiling, though tears were in their eyes… they just stood there and let it happen– not that there was anything they could do to stop it. I understood then, in some unknowable way… the “transformation” hadn’t worked on me as intended. I still had control of my body and mind, but I sensed intrusive thoughts and impulses that weren’t mine.

   

  Shannon was crying. Whatever she’d expected, it wasn’t this. Life as we knew it was over. I should have been dead, but I wasn’t; I was riddled with holes and gushing blood, but that didn’t seem important anymore. 

   

  “I’m so sorry!” she sobbed, “I didn’t know!” blah blah blah, I stopped listening. I didn’t care what she had to say. I picked up my clothes from by the door; I wasn’t feeling confident enough to keep rocking the bloody bikini. Not until the holes healed up, at least.

   

  The cloud of butterflies split in two; one hung around me. I knew they were mine. The others started beating themselves against a window– at least until Agnes walked over and opened it for them. My coworkers weren’t themselves anymore, acting on the will of something else; a fate I was exempt from. It was a shame; though their mouths weren’t moving, I could feel their screams.

   

  Their bodies were moving, but they weren’t in control of them anymore. They were drones, but I was a Queen. I’m not sure if something went wrong or something went right, but I’m not going to argue with the results. Do you know how many MLMs promise you’ll be your own boss? I didn’t expect it to be true. Success is the exception, not the rule.

   

  “Kari, what happened? I don’t know what happened.”

   

  “Of course you know, Shannon. It’s exactly as you said.” she’d promised a transformation. She promised a lot of things, but this was the first time she’d delivered. I walked over to the bloodstained table and picked up the tub of Butterfly Beauty’s Softening Sweet Fair Trade Organic Sugar Scrub.

   

  I turned back to my former boss, smiling. I wouldn’t give her the sales pitch, but I’d treat her to a free demonstration of my new product line.

   

  “The first step? Exfoliation!”

   

  I’m going to throw a Butterfly Party just for her. What better way to start my own downline?

  Posted in Short Stories [Horror] | 0 Comments | Tagged antimlm, beauty, butterfly, dark, fiction, horror, mlm, original, scary, short stories, short story, writing

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